Strike
by Deadly Chakram
Summary: Metropolis is hosting a celebrity bowling event, but the Man of Steel has a problem - he's a terrible bowler!
1. Clark

Summary: Metropolis is hosting a celebrity bowling event, but the Man of Steel has a problem - he's a terrible bowler!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make nothing. All characters, plot points, and recognizable dialogue belong to DC comics, Warner Brothers, December 3rd Productions and anyone else with a stake in the Superman Franchise.

Author's Note: This plot bunny was spawned by a reveal challenge on the Lois and Clark fanfiction message boards, as issued by VirginiaR. The only real specifications were that someone's secret be revealed. This is what my twisted muse came up with.

I do have a companion piece to this one that looks at the events from Lois' point of view. I will post it as a separate chapter.

"_Yes!_" Lois said, punching a fist into the air, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Take that, Kent!"

Clark rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Must _everything_ be a competition with you, Lois?"

Lois walked over to him, reluctantly putting her back to the bowling lane she and Clark were sharing. Behind her, the machine swept away the pins she'd knocked over and replaced them with a new set, ready for Clark to take his turn. She stopped a few inches from him and put her hands on her hips as Clark tallied the score. Lois glanced at the paper briefly and smiled, satisfied with the severe trouncing she was giving him.

"What?" he asked, his eyes going to where her hands rested on her hips. "Did I say something wrong?"

"You can't honestly tell me that _you_, of all people, aren't all about sports competition, Mr. College Football Player."

"Bowling is _hardly_ a sport," Clark replied, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Is too!" Lois countered. "They even televise the big competitions."

Clark shrugged. "So? I mean, do people actually _get_ the stations they air on?"

"So...it's a sport," Lois said slowly, as though explaining the concept to a child, purposefully ignoring his second remark, if Clark was any judge. "And a high school friend went to college on a bowling scholarship." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the waiting pins. "You're up."

Clark shook his head again, stifling a laugh. He made his way to the ball return, selected one of the two he'd chosen for their weight and fit, and readied himself for his turn. He approached the throw line and released his grip, carefully reigning in his strength. The ball rolled down the lane, and, for a moment, all looked well. Then, about halfway down the lane, it began to veer to one side. It clipped all of three pins by the time it had finished its' journey, barely knocking them down and leaving the rest standing. He sighed. He wasn't even _trying_ to do poorly, to maintain his cover and to make Lois happy. He really _was_ just that bad of a bowler.

Retreating back to the ball return, he selected the spare he had and repeated the process. Immediately upon clearing the throw line, the neon blue and black ball wobbled and made a beeline for the gutter. Clark groaned as he threw his head back to look at the ceiling.

"You still aren't approaching it on the correct foot," Lois said, stepping to his side. She patted his leg briefly. "You need to step off here. Then, one, two, three steps and release. Watch."

With a swish of her hair, she grabbed the swirled pink ball she had been favoring for the last game and a half. Demonstrating for Clark, she purposefully slowed down her motions before releasing the ball. It went practically screaming down the lane and knocked every pin over.

"Three in a row," she proudly crowed. "That's another little X, right here in this box," she added with a grin, pointing to the blank space on the score sheet.

"Hey, thanks," Clark teased, dutifully marking the X in question. He rifled his fingers through his hair as he looked again at the chasm between his points and Lois'. "What ever would I do without you?" He tallied the score and wrote it down.

"Did I mention that the loser buys the snacks?" Lois teased back.

"I thought the winner was supposed to buy?" Clark said, grinning. "You know. Nurse my deflated ego and all."

Lois laughed, her eyes sparkling. As always, Clark was entranced by the sound. It was so good, hearing her laugh, seeing her so relaxed and full of life. Until recently, he'd only gotten to see the professional side of Lois Lane, with glimpses into her real self more rare than a unicorn. And that professional side had loathed having him as a partner. But then, something had changed. They'd gone to Smallville together to investigate what they had thought was a simple DEA cover-up. Being home had relaxed Clark, and perhaps that had rubbed off on Lois. Over the days she was there, she began to unwind a little. Her professional demeanor had fallen away, giving Clark a spectacular view of the real Lois Lane, the woman behind the Mad Dog veneer. He had loved seeing her so comfortable, despite her initial awkwardness at being so far out of her comfort zone. In turn, she had relaxed him, even when he'd privately been dealing with the terror of learning what Kryptonite could do to him.

They'd begun the trip as colleagues and had ended it as the best of friends.

"You wish, Farm Boy," she said, smiling.

Clark laughed, shrugging in mock defeat. "Okay," he said, making it sound like it was a sacrifice for him. "What do you want?"

Lois thought for a moment. "Mozzarella sticks. And a water."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Clark said, before slipping away.

"Hey! It's your turn!" Lois protested as he walked toward the concession stand.

Clark smiled to himself and pretended not to hear. A few minutes away from the absolute slaughter was exactly what he needed. Of course, it took him away from Lois at the same time. And Clark already hated every moment spent apart from her. He loved her, plain and simple, but he was still too nervous to actually ask her out. He didn't want to move too fast with Lois. He was afraid that he might scare her away. After all, it hasn't been all that long ago that she had finally opened up enough to allow him to befriend her.

Since it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, relatively few people were in the bowling alley. He and Lois both had the day off, but he'd still been surprised when she'd called him up and invited him to go bowling with her. Belatedly, he realized that she was probably only interested in going because all of Metropolis was abuzz with excitement for the rapidly approaching celebrity bowling tournament. Superman had been roped into the event, despite Clark's initial hesitation. He was still getting used to his alter-ego's celebrity status. But all of the proceeds were going to charity, so how could he possibly say no?

Of course Lois was swept up into the excitement. It didn't matter that it had been twenty-three years since Metropolis had last been chosen to host the event. Her hero would be there - the man she thought she loved when she understood next to nothing about him. The cardboard cutout she fawned over while simultaneously ignoring the man beneath the flashy suit.

Clark sighed inwardly. He wished Lois would give up the Superman fantasy. He wished she would show even the slightest bit of interest in him, Clark. It was funny, in a way. She could have Superman if only she would give Clark a chance, but it seemed that Clark was the last man she would ever date. It really was a mess. And Clark dared not attempt to unravel the knots and snags in their relationship. To do so, he would need to reveal the truth about who he really was, and, though he wanted to one day be completely honest with her, he could not do so, not now. Not until he knew that she would chose _Clark_, the real man, above the mask of Superman.

A soft, second sigh escaped him as he thought again about the bowling tournament. He should never have agreed to it. What had he been thinking? He was a terrible bowler. Why couldn't it have been a basketball tournament? Or a game of touch football? Even fishing would have been preferable. In just a few short days, he was going to make an absolute fool out of himself.

In a way, he thought, it was good that Lois had asked him to go bowling with her. He'd planned to go alone, to get in some practice before the big event. He'd known he was in desperate need of some practice. He hadn't been inside an alley since the unfortunate days when he'd dated Lana, back in Smallville. Going with Lois had been a double blessing. Not only could he reacquaint himself with the game, but he got to spend some time with Lois. And, he had to privately admit, her tips were helping, at least a little. He'd managed to double his score from the first game. Of course, that wasn't saying much. He'd only scored a measly thirty points in the first game they'd played.

He ordered their food at the concession stand and leaned against the bar top, waiting for it to be cooked. It didn't take long at all. Within ten minutes, he was heading back through the building to where Lois sat, doodling on the edges of the score sheet with the tiny stub of a pencil the alley had provided. Clark slid into the seat next to her, putting down the tray of food in the same fluid motion.

"Here you go," he said as he sat.

"Thanks. Looks good," Lois said, eyeing the mozzarella sticks.

Clark grabbed up one of his nachos, dipped it in the dish of hot, gooey cheese that came with it, and popped it into his mouth.

"I didn't know you ate with your left hand," Lois observed.

Clark swallowed before answering. "Sometimes, yeah."

"How come?"

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "I just do, sometimes. I guess it's a habit I've had since I was a kid. I'm not even sure when it started, to be perfectly honest. Why?"

Lois shrugged in turn. "No reason. I just think it's interesting, that's all. Come on, it's your throw."

Clark wiped his hands on a napkin, took a sip of his soda, and stood. Like a condemned man, he dutifully picked up his bowling ball and advanced. Mindful of Lois' helpful tips, he tried to follow what she'd demonstrated for him. But the very thought of the way her long legs had moved when she'd shown him what to do threw his concentration. He hit the correct foot on the release, but the ball still wobbled as it left his hand. It hit the alley with a thud and rolled down the long length of wood before it finally knocked seven pins down.

"Nice!" Lois said, genuinely sounding pleased with his progress. "You did much better that time. But you're still not letting go at the right spot. If you'd waited another second or two as your arm came up, you would have had more control over the ball."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind," Clark said, smiling.

He picked up his spare ball and repeated the actions, this time trying harder to release at the proper time. But a sudden burst of sound from the speakers in the alley, alerting the owners of a blue Dodge that their car's lights were still on, caused him to utterly lose control over his throw. The ball sailed into the gutter.

"And that's the end of the game," Lois announced. "I win."

"No kidding," Clark said, shaking his head. To himself, he could only think of how much trouble Superman was going to be in, once the tournament started on Saturday. "If it wasn't for the gutter, I think my balls would be homeless. Err, I mean...well...you know." He blushed as the double meaning that his words held hit him.

Luckily, Lois only laughed at his sudden discomfort.

Trying to save what was left of his dignity, Clark gestured to the lane. "Another round?"

Lois nodded. "One more, I think. My arm's getting a bit tired. Isn't yours?"

"Uh, sure," Clark said, grabbing another nacho from the paper bowl on the tray. He dunked it in the cheese and ate the chip.

"Okay, five minute break," Lois announced, slipping into one of the seats, while Clark sat next to her. She grabbed one of Clark's chips and ate it plain.

"Food thief," Clark said, grinning.

He darted his hand over to Lois' mozzarella sticks. She slapped the offending hand, but not before he stole one of the sticks . Triumphantly, he bit into it, enjoying the way Lois shook her head in laughter.

"Takes one to know one, apparently," she mock-complained.

Clark shrugged innocently and smiled. "What? It's simply a tax imposed for being the one to get the food."

Again, she laughed, the most precious sound in Clark's world. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she bit into a mozzarella stick. For several long minutes, the two sat in companionable silence as they ate and drank. Finally, Lois wiped her mouth and hands on a napkin and looked back at the pins at the far end of the lane.

"Ready?" she asked Clark.

Clark wiped the grease from his fingers and took a long swig of his drink. "Ready," he nodded. "You first." He wrote their names on a fresh score sheet.

This time, Clark did much better. His score, once in the paltry double digits, soared to a respectable one hundred twenty. He breathed a discreet sigh of relief as he tallied the final scores. Maybe Superman wouldn't get knocked out of the tournament in the first round after all. Maybe the Man of Steel would walk away from the tournament with at least some of his dignity left.

"Great game," Lois announced, flopping onto the hard plastic seat next to Clark. She pried off one of her bowling shoes and bent to retrieve her sneakers. "Looks like you finally found what works for you."

"Yeah. And thanks," Clark said, trying his shoelaces. "You still creamed me though."

Lois shrugged. "At least you gave me a challenge, this game."

Clark laughed deeply. "Glad to be of service."

"Are you going to the celebrity tournament on Saturday?" Lois asked, trying her other shoe.

He shook his head. "No." It wasn't technically a lie. Superman would be there, but Clark Kent would not be.

"How come?"

"Standing around, watching a bunch of rich and famous people bowl?" He shrugged and stood. "It doesn't exactly scream 'fun way to spend my day off.' But, let me guess. You're going, right?"

She nodded her affirmation. "Of course. Superman will be there."

Clark tried hard not to let his exasperation show. When would Lois _finally_ get over her Superman crush?

"Of course," he said instead, working hard to keep his tone neutral.

"You should come. We could hang out together. I'll even buy the snacks this time. Besides, it's for a good cause."

"I know," he nodded. "But I've got other plans." That too, was the truth. He planned to _participate_ in the games, not to watch them. He shrugged into his jacket, then helped Lois into hers. "Where to?"

Lois glanced at her watch. "Five o'clock. I don't need to meet up with Lucy for another four hours."

"You want to come back to my place for a while? I could run out for some Chinese food in a bit."

"I'd like that," Lois said, giving him a smile. "Should we pick up a movie?"

"Sure, if you'd like," Clark said, leading her to the counter. He placed his rented shoes on the counter, pulled out his wallet, and peeled off a few bills to pay for the rounds they'd played.

"Here, let me help," Lois said, unzipping her purse.

Clark waved her off. "My treat. Maybe I'll let you get it next time."

"You're on," she said, grinning. "Now come on, let's get out of here."

Saturday rolled around far too quickly for Clark's liking. He groaned as he got out of bed, showered, and dressed. He'd never gotten a chance to go back to the bowling alley to practice some more, as he'd planned. Between the stories he and Lois had been working on, and his side work as Superman, he hadn't seen his bed before three in the morning, let alone found any time to sneak in a game of bowling.

Today was going to be humiliating; he just knew it.

With the tournament not starting until two, he forced himself to get a few chores done - washing the dishes he'd left in the sink the night before, dusting the living room, cleaning up the library books that lay strewn about in almost every room of his apartment. He no longer needed them for his research, and figured he could drop them off before work on Monday. He left them in a neat stack on his coffee table, where he would be sure to see them and remember.

Even at normal speed, it didn't take long to do, giving him ample time to sit and worry about the tournament. A few times, his phone rang. At first, he reached to retrieve it, but then stopped himself. What if it was Lois calling? He'd told her that he had plans that day, that he would be too busy to accompany her to the bowling alley. Sighing, he dropped his head and attempted to watch his television. But soon, he was fidgeting in his seat. He needed something to do, to occupy both his mind and his body. Spinning into his Superman suit, he took to the sky, giving Metropolis a quick patrol.

When that uncovered nothing more insidious than one mugging in a back alley in Hobb's Bay, he moved on, crossing the New Troy state line in search of an emergency to which he could lend his aid. For two hours, he found ways to occupy himself, assisting at two car crashes, and stopping a third. He saved a family from a house fire and rescued a puppy that had fallen through a broken sewer grate. Then he was heading back to Metropolis for the tournament.

He felt uneasy as he entered through the doors to the midtown alley. It was a different one than the place where he and Lois had shared some friendly competition. But all alleys were essentially the same. Hiding his unease, he affixed a happy smile to his face as he pushed the doors open and greeted the gathered crowd. Normally, knowing Lois would be somewhere, he would search out her heartbeat, because it always soothed him and calmed his nerves. But far too many people were gathered in that too-small place, making it impossible for him to focus his hearing. Regretfully, he had to remain within the realm of normal hearing.

"Superman! Over here!"

It seemed every paper, television news station, and radio station was there, all clamoring for his attention. He wasn't surprised to see such heavy media coverage. Clark politely waved and dipped his head in acknowledgment, but it was far too noisy in the alley for him to answer questions. Besides, he had to check in with the coordinators and choose the balls he'd be using for the duration of the tournament. Still, as he passed the clusters of onlookers, he had to look for Lois. After a quick scan, he caught sight of her near the front, waving and trying to get his attention. Unable to help himself, he gave her a nod and a smile, and was delighted by the smile he received in return. At the same moment, he could have kicked himself. Why was he continuing to give her some kind of false hope that there could ever been more than just friendship between the superhero and Lois? If he was smart, he would stop encouraging her and, instead, treat her with the same professional courtesy as every other reporter in the city, and hope that she would, in turn, learn to see him for who he was - Clark. But, it seemed, he was completely helpless in her presence.

He moved to the check-in table, but the coordinators had already checked him off on their list. One of them, a seemingly very star-struck young woman, sent him in the direction of lane twelve, almost directly in the middle of the building. He found it with ease, then went to select two bowling balls to use, as it appeared most of the other bowlers had done. Then he sat and waited to see who else would be sent to his lane. It was still early, and only a very few celebrities had arrived.

Not long after, he saw Bruce Wayne, of Gotham City, arrive. The man mutely inclined his head at Clark, ever so slightly, so that only Clark's keen vision could detect the movement. Clark gave the man a more public nod, as he had at every passing newcomer. He had, on a few occasions, lent his aid to Batman with situations that the Caped Crusader could not undertake on his own. One of those nights, a freak set of circumstances had ended with them finding out the other's true identity - secrets they both guarded with their lives. As luck would have it, Bruce was also assigned to lane twelve. Clark shook his hand, pretending to be meeting him for the very first time.

That, at least, was a relief, to have a familiar face there. Of course, he also knew that if he bowled as poorly as he suspected that he would, Bruce would never let him live it down.

For the next forty-five minutes, Clark watched as various television, movie, sports, and music personalities all filtered into the alley. Many made it a point to shake his hand, and Clark happily chatted with each of them, even signing a few autographs for some of them to bring home to their children. In some cases, Clark himself felt a little star-struck as he met celebrities he'd always been a fan of, especially those who made their living playing sports. In those instances, he did his best to keep the unreadable mask of Superman intact. It simply would not do to have the Man of Steel acting like a star-struck fan.

Lex Luthor was there as well, having used his money and influence to become the sole sponsor of the game. Clark wondered if it was because Luthor wanted to look like the benevolent hero who had helped the tournament become a reality, or if it was a way for him to ensure that he didn't need to be lumped in so "common" a group as those who were competing in it. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps both reasons were correct. The billionaire made the rounds, meeting and greeting every single celebrity guest in the place, shaking hands and making small-talk. When it came time for Clark to shake his hand, both men forced as much pleasantness into their demeanors as possible. Clark only hoped that, to the spectators, it hadn't appeared to be as awkward and forced as it had felt.

It was almost a relief when the tournament began. Almost. Soon, it would all be over, then Clark could finally put it behind him. He would either do poorly and become the butt of numerous jokes, or he would do well and help make a lot of money for charity. In either case, he planned to spend the night relaxing, if possible. Superman would relegate himself only to the very worst emergencies that might arise that night.

The first round started. Clark picked up his ball and prepared to make his first throw. He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to remember all the advice Lois had given him a few days before. One, two, three steps as he brought his arm back. The upswing and the release, but not before he second guessed himself. The ball plopped unceremoniously into the gutter. He tossed his head back and groaned. This was exactly how he hoped things would _not_ go.

He heard scattered chuckles ripple throughout the crowd. He supposed it _would_ be kind of funny, to see the unstoppable hero struggle with something so simple. The thought made him laugh at little at himself. He picked up his spare ball and repeated the same steps. This time, he was concentrating so hard that he forgot to rein in his strength. The ball flew from his fingertips, albeit in a straight line, and pulverized the pins that stood waiting in neat rows.

"Oops," he said, blushing a little. "Sorry."

"Judges?" one of the officials asked, looking for a ruling.

The panel of judges conferred for a moment before nodding in agreement. On the monitor above the alley, a diagonal slash appeared, flashing black before shrinking down and finding a home in the first box next to Superman's name. A spare. They'd granted him a spare, even though the pins hadn't technically been knocked down.

One or two dissenters in the audience spoke up, voicing their unhappiness with the ruling.

"He didn't knock'em down!" yelled one young man, louder than all the rest.

"The pins aren't standing either," one of the judges calmly replied with a smug smile. "Our ruling stands. Superman gets a spare. But, Superman, let's try not to destroy any more pins today. Okay?"

Clark bobbed his head in an embarrassed nod. "Sorry about that. It won't happen again. I promise."

"Good," the same woman said, though not without amusement. She gave him genuine smile.

By the end of the first game, Clark was in decent shape. His score fell squarely in the middle, saving him from an early elimination and a great deal of embarrassment, even if it might have been only within his own mind.

From each lane, the lowest scoring celebrities were taken out of the competition, though almost all of them stayed around to cheer on friends and colleagues. A few ducked out early, apologizing to the spectators and citing reasons from early flights to personal reasons. Those who stayed mostly sat in their same seats, cheering on the others, or wandered from lane to lane, talking to those they knew. As before, a few approached Clark to shake his hand and offer a few words about what fans they were of the things that he did and stood for. He gracefully accepted each word of praise, thankful, as he always was, that people really _did_ appreciate what Superman did each day.

The next round began. Clark watched as Bruce easily knocked down eight pins with his first throw, then one more with his second. Then it was his turn. He stood and selected one of the balls he'd chosen - a neon blue one with flames painted on it. Aware of everyone's eyes on him - especially Lois' gaze - he geared himself up for the throw. The ball shot from his fingertips and for a moment, it looked good. Then, as he carefully stepped backwards, watching the progress, it wobbled off course. Inches from the pins, it finally teetered off the edge of the lane and into the gutter. Clark threw his head back in frustration. After a moment to collect himself, he retreated back to the ball return, picked up the one that was painted to look like a billiards ball, and took his second throw. This time, four pins went down.

"Nice move, butterfingers," Bruce said in a confidential whisper as Clark sat down next to him again.

Clark grunted and nodded slightly, but couldn't think of anything witty to use as a retort.

"Fry?" the other man offered, holding out a large basket of French fries toward Clark.

"Thanks," Clark said, reaching out with his left hand and grabbing a few of the slender, crinkle cut strips. He bit into one and chewed thoughtfully, eyeing the lane and watching as other competitors took their turns.

And so the day progressed. Clark's bowling fell somewhere between terrible and terribly mediocre. He barely squeaked by, making it to the third round. The same held true for the fourth as well, where he finally bowled poorly enough to get knocked out of the competition by those who were more talented than he was. With a good-natured grin, he politely sat by, watching the rest of the tournament. With so many bowlers knocked out of the game, the lanes consolidated, with the remaining celebs grouped together into fewer lanes.

Crowded out of his seat, Clark moved, leaning back onto the divider wall between the lanes and the lobby area. He folded his arms before his chest, adopting a relaxed stance as he watched the rest of the game play out. Bruce had been eliminated before Clark had, so he stood to Clark's side. Every once in a while, Clark would reach over and, since the man had been nice enough to share, steal a fry or two to eat.

After the winner was determined, the celebrity guests stayed to sign memorabilia to be auctioned off to raise more money for their respective charities. Clark signed a number of photographs that the Daily Planet had donated - he recognized Jimmy's handiwork as he glanced at each glossy photo. He also signed a couple of fabric capes, plush Superman dolls, and S-shield t-shirts as well. He wanted to leave after the signing, but, short of faking an emergency, he didn't want to be the one person who left at that point of the day. So, instead, he watched the auction.

He was mildly surprised when he saw that Lois wasn't bidding on anything. He was certain she'd at least attempt to purchase one of the Superman items, enamored as she was with the superhero. Perhaps she was strapped for cash at the moment. He knew what her salary was - he was, after all, on the same pay-scale as she was. And, he also knew that she'd recently had to replace the tires and brake pads on her Jeep. He'd even teased her about taking it easier on her car in the future to prevent as much wear and tear. He did notice, however, that her eyes rarely left him as he stood there amongst the other bowlers.

Finally, the event was completely over. He could leave. Thoughts of a leisurely dinner and some time spent unwinding with a good book filled his brain. He could scarcely wait for the quiet solitude of his apartment after the ear-splitting and constant noise of the bowling alley. If it had been possible for him to suffer from a headache, he knew his head would be throbbing at that point. He looked forward to being alone and not having to listen to anything more than the faint noise of the city beyond the windows of his place.

Just one more obstacle to overcome. The entire lobby was still filled with adoring fans calling out to their favorite celebrities. And beyond that, in the parking lot, standing in knots flanking the doors, stood all of the media personalities, waiting to shove their cameras and microphones into the bowlers' faces as they called out rapid-fire questions. Squaring his shoulders and putting on a happy face, Clark began to move toward the doors, ready to brave the onslaught.

"Superman!" Cat Grant called out.

Clark swiveled his gaze to her. He wasn't surprised to see her there. Of course the Planet's top gossip columnist would have been at the tournament.

"Superman!" she called again. "Can you comment on your bowling scores today?"

"I'm just glad I was able to participate," he hedged. "It was a great event for a great cause. I'm very happy with the amount of money we were all able to raise for all those charities today."

"But what about your scores themselves?" the woman pressed. "It seems like you aren't too familiar with bowling."

"I'm familiar enough with it," he said, shrugging. "I guess it's just not really my game though. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

With that, he swept passed her, taking long strides out into the cracked and uneven parking lot that stretched from the bowling alley to the corner of the street. He contemplated just flying off from where he was, but he didn't want to seem too rude. As he retreated though, a familiar set of footsteps shadowed him.

"Superman?" Lois called out. "A moment?"

Clark groaned inwardly. Normally, he'd love talking to Lois, but all he wanted at the moment was to get home and relax. Then, maybe once he'd had time to unwind, he might give her a call, just to hear the sound of her voice. At the moment though, his sensitive ears were still ringing a little from the hours he'd just spent in the noisy bowling alley.

"Hi, Lois," he said, stopping and turning to her.

"Hi, yourself," she said, reaching his side. She gestured away from the crowd. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," Clark said, unsuccessfully trying to gage what she wanted to talk about. Perhaps she was looking for an exclusive interview with him?

Lois started to walk away without another word. Confused, Clark followed, keeping just a pace or two behind her.

"Lois?" he ventured after a few feet.

"Just a second," she replied. "I'd rather speak in private."

"Uh, sure," Clark said.

After another minute, Lois paused. Clark realized she was standing by her Jeep. For a second, she merely looked at him, then she crossed her arms and leaned against her rear bumper. Her face changed instantly from normal to serious.

"Is something the matter?" he asked gently.

"You tell me, _Clark_. What could _possibly_ be wrong? Other than you lying to me since the moment I met you. No, I don't want to hear it right now. I'll meet you back at your apartment and you'd _better_ explain yourself. And Kent, don't you even _dare_ even think about faking an emergency."

Clark knew he was standing with his face pale and his mouth hanging agape. Something perked up his ears and he used his super speed to check the area. There, across the way, far enough to be unable to hear Lois but close enough to see her angry expression, Bruce Wayne leaned against his car and laughed. At least someone found his situation funny.

But Lois!

She was going to be mad at him for a long, long time, wasn't she? How could he explain? How could he make her understand? Would she even trust him when he tried?

He nodded slowly, letting Lois know he would be there, waiting for her at his place. Letting her know that he was ready to come clean and answer all her questions. Letting her know that he wasn't going to try and deny her accusations. He turned from her and rose silently, slowly, into the air.

"Clark," she called to him in an even softer voice than she'd managed to use when she'd dropped her bombshell on him.

He paused, but didn't turn, too afraid to see the scorn he was sure would be there in her eyes.

"If you'd told me before...I could have helped you improve your game more," she said, and he was infinitely relieved to hear the teasing tone creep back into her voice.

He smiled and laughed as he took off, heading back to his place. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad with Lois knowing his secret after all.

The End.


	2. Lois

"_Yes!_" Lois said, punching a fist into the air, grinning from ear-to-ear and feeling quite pleased with herself. "Take that, Kent!"

Clark rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Must _everything_ be a competition with you, Lois?"

Lois walked over to him, reluctantly putting her back to the bowling lane she and Clark were sharing. Behind her, the machine swept away the pins she'd knocked over and replaced them with a new set, ready for Clark to take his turn. She stopped a few inches from him and put her hands on her hips as Clark tallied the score. Lois glanced at the paper briefly and smiled, satisfied with the severe trouncing she was giving him.

"What?" he asked, his eyes going to where her hands rested on her hips. "Did I say something wrong?"

"You can't honestly tell me that _you_, of all people, aren't all about sports competition, Mr. College Football Player."

"Bowling is _hardly_ a sport," Clark replied, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Is too!" Lois countered, baiting him. "They even televise the big competitions."

Clark shrugged. "So? I mean, do people actually _get_ the stations they air on?"

"So...it's a sport," Lois said slowly, as though explaining the concept to a child, purposefully ignoring his second remark. "And a high school friend went to college on a bowling scholarship." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the waiting pins. "You're up."

Clark shook his head again, appearing to be stifling a laugh. He made his way to the ball return, selected one of the two he'd chosen for their weight and fit, and readied himself for his turn. He approached the throw line and released his grip. The ball rolled down the lane, and, for a moment, Lois that that all looked well. Then, about halfway down the lane, it began to veer to one side. It clipped all of three pins by the time it had finished its' journey, barely knocking them down and leaving the rest standing. Clark sighed, sounding a little annoyed.

Retreating back to the ball return, he selected the spare he had and repeated the process. Immediately upon clearing the throw line, the neon blue and black ball wobbled and made a beeline for the gutter. Clark groaned as he threw his head back to look at the ceiling. Seeing his frustration, Lois couldn't help but to feel bad for her friend and partner.

"You still aren't approaching it on the correct foot," Lois said, stepping to his side. She patted his leg briefly to show him what she meant. "You need to step off here. Then, one, two, three steps and release. Watch."

With a swish of her hair, she grabbed the swirled pink ball she had been favoring for the last game and a half. Demonstrating for Clark, she purposefully slowed down her motions before releasing the ball. It went practically screaming down the lane and knocked every pin over.

"Three in a row," she proudly crowed. "That's another little X, right here in this box," she added with a grin, pointing to the blank space on the score sheet. As soon as the words left her lips, however, she regretted them.

But she needn't have worried about Clark's feelings being hurt. As always, he seemed to remain cheerful. "Hey, thanks," Clark teased, dutifully marking the X in question. He rifled his fingers through his hair as he looked again at the chasm between his points and Lois'. "What ever would I do without you?" He tallied the score and wrote it down.

"Did I mention that the loser buys the snacks?" Lois teased back, unable to help herself, now that she knew Clark wasn't angry with the severe beating he was taking.

"I thought the winner was supposed to buy?" Clark said, grinning. "You know. Nurse my deflated ego and all."

Lois laughed as she saw sparkles dance in Clark's eyes. Now that they were friends, she'd come to love seeing the ever-present smile that he kept in those twin chocolate orbs. Now that she'd allowed herself to lose the protective cloak of her professionalism around him, she was forever doing and saying things that would make that sparkle appear, make the man's face split into the lopsided grin that had once annoyed her and now reassured her.

She was infinitely glad that Clark Kent, the nobody from Nowheresville, had become her friend. That he'd never given up on her. That he'd forced her - kicking and screaming as she'd been - to take notice of what a good and decent guy he was. That he'd refused to be put off by her sometimes acerbic nature, and had, instead, only showed her kindness and friendship.

Because, if there was one thing Lois knew for sure in her life, it was that Clark, her sometimes geeky work partner, was her best friend - the only best friend she'd ever truly know.

"You wish, Farm Boy," she said, smiling back at him, hoping to see his own again.

Clark laughed, shrugging in what appeared to be mock defeat. "Okay," he said, finally. "What do you want?"

Lois thought for a moment as she considered her choices. "Mozzarella sticks. And a water," she finally decided on.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Clark said, before slipping away, hands in his pockets.

"Hey! It's your turn!" Lois protested as he walked toward the concession stand.

Either he didn't hear her or pretended not to. Lois sat down, waiting for his return. There was not a single thing she could do in the meantime. Until Clark took his turn, the game was at a standstill. She frowned. He'd done that on purpose, hadn't he? Probably to make some subtle point about patience. After all, he'd told her about three times on their drive over to try to relax, after she'd yelled at a few slower drivers.

She watched as Clark threaded his way through the mostly empty alley toward the concession stand. She liked the fact that the place was so empty at this time of day. It was far less noisy this way, coming in the middle of the week like they had. And with all the buzz surrounding the upcoming celebrity bowling tournament, Lois knew that all the alleys would be extra busy at night and on the past few weekends. It would have been impossible to get a lane.

She wondered if Clark attributed her sudden enthusiasm for bowling to be just her getting caught up in the hype. The truth was, she _was_ excited for the event. She could scarcely wait to watch Superman bowl. She'd donated a fair amount to the charity he was competing for. But that wasn't why she had the sudden urge to hit the lanes. She'd always been a decent bowler. And it just felt good to get out of the office and do something fun with Clark - something outside of their normal dinner and a movie at one or the other's apartment.

Now that she'd allowed herself to befriend Clark, she craved the moments where they could leave work behind and have some fun. Looking back over her life since college, she realized that she'd had far too little fun in those years. She shook her head. No, not since college. Probably since grade school. High school and college had been mostly about competition -with her peers, with herself, with trying to do everything and anything possible to get a leg-up. Clubs to make her seem more attractive to college recruiters. Internships to try to secure a job after college. Fun had taken a definite backseat to work. But now, with Clark, she finally felt how important it was to relax. Oh, she still considered herself to be competitive, but Clark's influence and steady infusion of fun into her life had her finally feeling like she had a real life. She felt healthier too, both mentally and physically.

She knew she was lucky to have him in her life.

"Here you go," Clark said as he returned and sat, jolting Lois out of her thoughts.

"Thanks. Looks good," Lois said, eyeing the mozzarella sticks, trying not to let on how he'd caught her off guard.

Clark grabbed up one of his nachos, dipped it in the dish of hot, gooey cheese that came with it, and popped it into his mouth. The movement seemed odd to Lois, and for a moment, she couldn't imagine why, until it finally dawned on her.

"I didn't know you ate with your left hand," Lois observed.

Clark swallowed before answering. "Sometimes, yeah." He brushed it off, as if it were nothing, which Lois supposed it was.

"How come?" It was still odd enough that she had to ask.

"I don't know," he replied casually, shrugging. "I just do, sometimes. I guess it's a habit I've had since I was a kid. I'm not even sure when it started, to be perfectly honest. Why?"

Lois shrugged in turn. She really hadn't had a good reason for asking, just her own rampant curiosity. "No reason. I just think it's interesting, that's all. Come on, it's your throw."

Clark wiped his hands on a napkin, took a sip of his soda, and stood. Lois watched as his shoulders sort of slumped as he approached the ball return. Looking like a condemned man, he dutifully picked up his bowling ball and advanced.

Lois bit back a smile as she watched his movements. They were far from graceful as he made the approach. He managed to end up on the correct foot, but, for whatever reason, the ball still wobbled as it left his hand. It hit the alley with a thud and rolled down the long length of wood before it finally knocked seven pins down.

"Nice!" Lois said, genuinely happy for him. "You did much better that time." Then, unable to resist giving him another pointer to help improve his game, she added, "But you're still not letting go at the right spot. If you'd waited another second or two as your arm came up, you would have had more control over the ball."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind," Clark said, smiling at her. Amazing, how he never seemed to take her criticisms as criticisms.

Lois gestured for him to try again. Clark nodded and picked up his spare ball. He repeated his actions. Again, however, he failed to release at the proper time and the ball plopped into the gutter.

"And that's the end of the game," Lois announced. "I win." She said it in a light, playful voice, doing her best not to gloat.

"No kidding," Clark said, shaking his head in an amused manner, Lois was relieved to see. He looked briefly at the lane they were using. "If it wasn't for the gutter, I think my balls would be homeless. Err, I mean...well...you know." Immediately his face flushed in embarrassment.

Lois laughed heartily. As much as her partner could dish out the occasional double entendre, it was fun to see him inadvertently do so, thereby sticking his foot into his mouth.

Clark gestured to the lane. "Another round?" Lois thought it sounded a bit rushed and forced, as if to sweep the slip-up under the carpet as quickly as possible.

Lois nodded, giving him the reprieve he sought. "One more, I think. My arm's getting a bit tired. Isn't yours?"

"Uh, sure," Clark said, grabbing another nacho from the paper bowl on the tray. He dunked it in the cheese and ate the chip. He didn't sound all that tired though.

"Okay, five minute break," Lois announced, slipping into one of the seats, while Clark sat next to her. She grabbed one of Clark's chips and ate it plain.

"Food thief," Clark said, grinning.

He darted his hand over to Lois' mozzarella sticks. She slapped the offending hand, but not before he stole one of the sticks . Triumphantly, he bit into it, appearing to be enjoying the way Lois shook her head in laughter.

"Takes one to know one, apparently," she mock-complained. She had to admit, she _did_ steal food from him often enough. Far more than he did to her, at any rate.

Clark shrugged innocently and smiled. "What? It's simply a tax imposed for being the one to get the food."

Again, she laughed. God, how could it be that he so easily brought out the mirth she usually held buried deep within her? She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she bit into a mozzarella stick. For several long minutes, the two sat in companionable silence as they ate and drank. Finally, Lois wiped her mouth and hands on a napkin and looked back at the pins at the far end of the lane. If they were going to play another game, they'd best get started.

"Ready?" she asked Clark.

Clark wiped the grease from his fingers and took a long swig of his drink. "Ready," he nodded. "You first." He wrote their names on a fresh score sheet.

This time, Clark did much better. His score, once in the paltry double digits, soared to a respectable one hundred twenty. Lois did her best to encourage him, cheering him on when he did well and trying to impart what tips and tricks she could when he did poorly. She didn't even fear giving away her sure-fire methods. Clark was clearly not cut out to be a bowler. Even if she taught him everything she knew about the bowling, she doubted he would ever manage to become a real threat to her own game.

"Great game," Lois announced, flopping onto the hard plastic seat next to Clark once they were finished. She pried off one of her bowling shoes and bent to retrieve her sneakers, wiggling her toes in freedom between the change in footwear. "Looks like you finally found what works for you."

"Yeah. And thanks," Clark said, trying his shoelaces, sounding genuinely grateful to her. "You still creamed me though."

Lois shrugged. "At least you gave me a challenge, this game." She couldn't help teasing him. Their banter was a game in and of itself, as they both always tried to find ways to rib one another.

Clark laughed deeply, a soulful and wonderful sound to her ears. "Glad to be of service."

"Are you going to the celebrity tournament on Saturday?" Lois asked, trying her other shoe. She was hoping he would. It would be fun to spend the day with him.

He shook his head. "No." He sounded bored by the prospect.

"How come?"

"Standing around, watching a bunch of rich and famous people bowl?" He shrugged and stood. "It doesn't exactly scream 'fun way to spend my day off.' But, let me guess. You're going, right?"

She nodded her affirmation. "Of course. Superman will be there," she reminded him, as if anyone could possibly forget that. Everyone in Metropolis was talking about it.

"Of course," he said instead, his tone having an air of forced neutrality to it.

Lois tried not to roll her eyes. For someone who claimed to be Superman's best friend, Clark often sounded jealous of - or outright bored with - the hero.

"You should come. We could hang out together. I'll even buy the snacks this time. Besides, it's for a good cause," she prodded, trying to entice him.

"I know," he nodded. "But I've got other plans." He shrugged into his jacket, then helped Lois into hers. "Where to?"

Lois glanced at her watch, buying herself some time. Plans? What plans could he have? He wasn't working. And he would have mentioned it if his folks were flying in for the weekend. Although, she supposed, he was entitled to a life outside of work and his family - and yes, even her.

"Five o'clock," she muttered. "I don't need to meet up with Lucy for another four hours."

"You want to come back to my place for a while? I could run out for some Chinese food in a bit," Clark offered.

"I'd like that," Lois said, giving him a smile. After all, he _did_ get the best takeout. "Should we pick up a movie?"

"Sure, if you'd like," Clark said, leading her to the counter. He placed his rented shoes on the counter, pulled out his wallet, and peeled off a few bills to pay for the rounds they'd played.

"Here, let me help," Lois said, unzipping her purse, feeling somewhat badly at the way she'd conned him into getting them some snacks earlier.

Clark waved her off as he usually did, being the polite gentleman she'd always known him to be. "My treat. Maybe I'll let you get it next time."

"You're on," she said, grinning. "Now come on, let's get out of here."

Saturday took too long to come, as far as Lois was concerned. The rest of the work week had been slow. With the excitement over Metropolis finally getting to host the celebrity bowling event after so many years, the police were out in full force, keeping the streets safe. Even Superman seemed to be busier than normal, helping to catch criminals almost before they could do anything. It all made for relatively little breaking news, even if she and Clark had been eyeball deep in research for a few stories they were working on. She'd barely been able to wait to have a day off, away from all her responsibilities, though the loose ends on those same stories still bothered her. But, she reasoned, she was sure to forget all about those irritating dead ends while she watched Superman bowling for charity.

She slept in, for the first time in weeks. It had felt so good, not to have to rush off any place. She could enjoy the day at her leisure.

She got dressed around noon, in her favorite pair of jeans. She debated between three tops, finally choosing a light, baby pink one. It would be warm in the bowling alley, she knew, with all of those people there. And she didn't want to wear the Superman t-shirt she'd bought when the superhero had first burst onto the scene and literally swept her off her feet. Everyone else there would likely be sporting shirts with movie posters, sports mascots, and band logos on them to show their support for whoever they were rooting for. Lois refused to be one of the mindless fans, as she thought of them. She didn't need to show such blatant support for Superman. If she knew him at all - and she thought she did - he would know that she was there for him.

She picked up the phone and dialed Clark's apartment, hoping to persuade him into accompanying her. As much as she would have loved to become Superman's girlfriend, she wasn't stupid. With his life, would he ever really have time to date anyone? And, while she viewed Clark as her best friend, she had to admit that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to wind up with someone like him. Someone she genuinely loved to be around and who always had time for her.

Well, almost always.

She listened as the phone futilely rang on and on. No one picked up. Not even the machine.

She sighed. "I guess you really _are_ busy."

The thought made her profoundly sad and lonely. She'd really hoped she could convince Clark to go with her. Watching the tournament with a friend would be infinitely more entertaining than going alone. She wondered what he could possibly be up to, and decided she would try to wheedle it out of him later that night when she would call to give him a recap of all he'd miss that afternoon.

At one o'clock, she ate a fast lunch - reheated pizza from the previous night's research session with Clark - and headed out of her apartment to drive to the bowling alley. It was already packed when she arrived, but the vast majority of the spectators had likely used public transportation to make their way to the tournament. She was able to find a spot to park toward the rear of the parking lot, next to an empty news van from LNN. At the doors to the building, she was nearly turned away, but she flashed her press pass at the security guards who were standing by for the protection of both the celebrity guests and the spectators alike.

Clark would have rolled his eyes at her, she knew. He probably would have commented on her lie. Well, white lie, she thought to herself. While she wasn't there on assignment, she _was_ a member of the press. As much as she enjoyed Clark's company and the fact that he was a more-or-less perfect gentleman, sometimes his sense of morality drove her crazy. At least they didn't get in the way of cracking stories, she reasoned.

Not long after, the first celebrities began to arrive. Lois couldn't help it as a little thrill shot through her at seeing people she'd admired from afar. Too bad Cat Grant ruined the moment by sidling up to her.

"Looking for a date?" the older woman purred sarcastically. "You're in the wrong place. No one here wants someone as boring as you."

"I didn't realize the alley allowed feral animals in here," Lois shot back.

Cat rolled her eyes. "Oh, burn," she said in a bored, sarcastic tone.

Lois chose not to respond. She saw Jimmy not far away and, instead, went to join the photographer as he loaded a fresh roll of film into his favorite camera.

"Superman! Over here!"

It seemed that every paper, television news station, and radio station was there, all clamoring for the hero's attention as he entered into the bowling alley. Lois wasn't surprised in the least. The fact that Superman had agreed to participate in the day's event was huge. So far, the man hadn't shown much more than a somewhat stoic, semi-aloof, and professional side to most people. Lois thought that she was the one person Superman ever seemed to drop his guard around, however slightly that might have been.

Superman politely waved and dipped his head in acknowledgment, but didn't answer any of the questions the reporters were flinging at him. Lois wondered if it was because of the level of noise in the place or because he simply had nothing to say. She watched as he went and checked in with the coordinators instead. But, as he passed her, he seemed to see her, giving her and nod and a smile as he went. She gave him a friendly, encouraging smile in return, hoping he would notice. After checking in, the coordinators sent Superman on his way, down to the lane he'd been assigned to, where Lois imagined he would choose his bowling balls. She jockeyed for a better spot, now that she knew where her friend was going to be for the tournament.

Soon after, the rest of the celebrities began to pour into the building. Friends greeted friends. Those who didn't know one another introduced themselves. Most gravitated toward Superman, taking the time to shake his hand and exchange a few words with him. From what Lois could see, he greeted each one enthusiastically, smiling and gracefully accepting every handshake that came his way. Some he only chatted with for a moment or two. Others he talked with for a long time, becoming more animated as the time went on. Lois wondered if the Man of Steel might be a little star struck, or if he was becoming somewhat relaxed in the spirit of the games to come and beginning to open up. She wished she could join him, even if only for a moment or two, just to say hello.

Lex Luthor was there as well, making the rounds and greeting every one of the guests of honor. Like Superman, he shook every hand he came across and offered a few words to each guest. But, unlike the superhero, his posture belied the comfortable ease his mannerisms suggested. Though he smiled and appeared to laugh with some of those he spoke with, it was never for long, not the way it was with Superman at all. Lois wondered if the billionaire was simply putting on an act for the benefit of the public eye. She supposed though, that it had to be hard, maintaining a cheery and relaxed demeanor with each and every person. Lois knew what it was like to have to force on a polite and friendly facade before people she might not have otherwise liked. She did it all the time at work - in getting interviews, in gaining access to information or places she might not have been able to without the pleasant act.

She did, notice, however, how Lex stiffened up immediately upon greeting Superman. She studied both men attentively as they exchanged a handshake and a few words. Neither one looked at ease to her. Though the dislike for one another was well hidden, she knew both men well enough to know the subtleties of their body language. Lex looked more formal than usual and Superman's smile didn't reach his eyes. She doubted anyone else would notice. Not many people were privileged enough to have had one on one time with either of the men, let alone both.

Interestingly enough, she thought, Clark also hated the billionaire, though he'd never voiced it aloud. Oh, sure, he'd made his dislike of Lex known to Lois, but she could tell that his level of dislike ran deeper than he'd ever admitted to. But he seemed to seethe in the man's presence and spoke his name like a curse.

Had Superman influenced Clark's aversion to Lex? Or had Clark's mistrust and dislike of Lex colored Superman's reaction to the man?

She noticed, too, that Superman and Bruce Wayne seemed to be hitting it off. The two seemed to spend a lot of time talking with each other. And, true to her nature, Lois couldn't help but to wonder what the two men were speaking about. It was driving her crazy, not knowing.

At last, the tournament began. With each lane full of competitors, the sound level in the building quickly became deafening. Lois watched as everyone in lane twelve took their turns, but became extra attentive when Superman stepped up to take his. He strode confidently to the ball return, where his bowling balls waited. As he moved, his cape flowed out behind him, looking as regal as ever, as Lois often thought of the garment. One step. Then another. And another. Superman's arm reared back, came up, and released the ball.

_Plop! _

Into the gutter it went. Scattered laughter broke out among the crowd, though it sounded amused and not vicious.

Superman's head went back as he appeared to study the ceiling and groan. Funny, it wasn't unlike Clark's reaction to the gutter-balls he'd thrown when they'd bowled together, just a few days prior. Had Superman picked up the habit from Clark? Or had Clark picked it up from Superman? If either was the case, how had it come to be? When had Clark and Superman hung out together? Had they bowled together before? But, how? Superman would be recognized wherever he went. Had he gone undercover? He looked to be about Clark's height and weight, now that Lois took the time to really study him. Perhaps he'd borrowed some of Clark's clothing to pass himself off as a normal, nondescript, man.

Now, that was a thought that had never before crossed Lois' mind. Superman in normal clothing. What would he look like, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt? She tried to imagine it in her mind's eye, but had trouble seeing him in anything but the famous, tight uniform he always wore. Although, she had to admit that she wouldn't mind seeing the Man of Steel in something other than the blue suit. Not that she didn't admire how it hugged his body in all of the right places. But, maybe, just maybe, if she could be around Superman when he wasn't wearing his uniform, he would open up to her and allow her to get to know him.

Superman retreated to the ball return and picked up the spare he had waiting there. Once more, he took those three steps, brought his arm back, and released the ball. But this time, for whatever reason, he hadn't checked his strength. The ball flew down the alley and hit the pins far too hard. All ten exploded into shards and splinters of painted wood.

Superman seemed to actually blush.

"Oops," he said, sounding abashed. "Sorry."

"Judges?" one of the officials asked, looking for a ruling.

The panel of judges conferred for a moment before nodding in agreement. On the monitor above the alley, a diagonal slash appeared, flashing black before shrinking down and finding a home in the first box next to Superman's name. Lois grinned. A spare. They'd granted him a spare, even though the pins hadn't technically been knocked down.

One or two dissenters in the audience spoke up, voicing their unhappiness with the ruling.

"He didn't knock'em down!" yelled one young man, louder than all the rest. From the sound of it, he was standing behind Lois and to her left.

"The pins aren't standing either," one of the judges calmly replied with a smug smile that Lois couldn't help but to like. "Our ruling stands. Superman gets a spare. But, Superman, let's try not to destroy any more pins today. Okay?"

The superhero bobbed his head in what looked to be an embarrassed nod. "Sorry about that. It won't happen again. I promise."

"Good," the same woman said, sounding amused. She gave Superman a genuine smile.

And so the game continued. Superman managed to improve his game, though not by too much. Still, it was enough to land his score in the middle of those he was sharing the lane with. He was able to move on to the next round.

From each lane, the lowest scoring celebrities were taken out of the competition, though, from the looks of things, almost all of them stayed around to cheer on friends and colleagues. A few ducked out early, apologizing to the onlookers and citing reasons from early flights to personal reasons. Lois didn't mind. It made for less confusion in the place so that she could focus on Superman.

Those who stayed mostly sat in their same seats, cheering on the others, or wandered from lane to lane, talking to those they knew. As before, a few approached Superman to shake his hand and to speak with him. He gracefully greeted them all, Lois noted. She did, however, regret the fact that it provided a distraction to Superman. She'd secretly hoped he'd take advantage of the brief break in the game to say hello to her.

It wasn't to be. The next round began, and all of the celebrity guests returned their attention to the wooden pins at the far end of the building. Lois watched as Bruce Wayne took his turn, knocking down an impressive nine pins with both of his throws. Then it was Superman's turn again. He picked up his neon blue ball, complete with flames on it, and contemplated it for a moment before finally approaching the throw line. Another gutter-ball. Another tossing of Superman's head back in frustration.

Lois shook her head. The motion really _did_ mirror what she'd seen Clark do, time and again.

Superman took his next shot and knocked down four pins. Lois watched as Bruce Wayne's shoulders shook in a laugh she couldn't hear. As Superman sat down next to the other man, he took a fry from the basket the billionaire held toward him. Lois blinked as she watched the exchange.

Superman took the fry with his left hand and ate it.

It wasn't a surprise to her that he would eat something. Though she'd never seen the hero actually ingest anything other than a bomb or two, he had told her that he did eat. But left-handedly? That struck her as odd. She knew, with certainty, that he was right-handed. After all, he _was_ throwing with his right hand. So why in the world would he eat with his left?

Suddenly, it felt like lightning struck Lois' brain. She felt her whole body go almost cold as a rush of adrenaline surged through her body.

Clark.

Clark had also eaten with his left hand while they'd been bowling, a few nights before.

Suddenly, all the similarities Lois had been noticing between Clark and Superman stopped feeling like strange, even somewhat freaky, coincidences. She thought back to what had eluded her earlier in the day. In her mind's eye, she drew glasses on Superman's face. Subtly using her hand, she blocked Superman's uniform from her sight. Sure, the hair was wrong, but...

"That _louse_," she muttered angrily as Superman's face became Clark's.

How had she never seen it before? The color of his eyes. The shape of his face. The mole above his lip. That devastating smile.

Clark Kent and Superman were one and the same.

"The liar," she growled to herself.

How could Superman lie to her? Parading around as Clark Kent, making a fool of her every day. Was he playing some kind of sick game with her? Seeing how long he could pull the wool over her eyes?

No. That wasn't right.

Lois sighed to herself.

Superman wasn't Clark. If anything, Clark was Superman. It was a subtle difference, but it meant everything.

There was simply no way that Clark Kent was Superman's cover. Clark had everything Superman didn't. He had a family. Lois had been in Smallville, in the farmhouse where he'd been raised. She knew his parents, had seen their son's baby pictures tucked neatly into albums, had looked at the photos showing Clark as he grew, hanging neatly in polished frames on the Kents' living room walls and covering their mantle. Clark had a job, an apartment, friends. He went to movies and paid his taxes. He let his passions be known - solving cases at work, favorite sports teams, helping those who couldn't help themselves, being there for his friends. He wasn't afraid to show if was he was hurt, or bored, or scared, or happy, or excited.

He was everything Lois suddenly realized Superman wasn't. Clark was _real_. Superman, by contrast, was no more than a cardboard cutout of a character.

Still...

He'd lied to Lois. Every day they had worked side by side and he'd never once mentioned his extraordinary abilities. In fact, he made himself out to be weaker than he was, less agile than he was. In all the times he and Lois had been alone together, outside of work, just two friends spending time together, he'd still never confessed to having an alternate ego, another life.

Did he think she was stupid? Did he imagine her as blind? Was he trying to see how long he could keep her in the dark? Didn't he trust her?

"No," she whispered as her mind whirred at a dizzying pace. "He does."

In an instant, a dozen moments sprang into mind. Moments where Clark had let her in to his life, had exposed his deepest feelings, had allowed her to see him at his most vulnerable. Moments where Superman had given her glimpses at the man behind the suit or had trusted her with his very life.

So why perpetuate the secret?

The crowd around her screamed in delight as Superman - or Clark, as Lois now knew with certainty - took his next turn. Women of all ages clamored for his attention, even though he was one hundred percent focused on the pins that stood waiting for him to knock down. One of the women, younger than Lois, shrugged out of her bra and tossed it in Superman's direction, though it sailed only a measly ten feet before flopping to the worn purple and gold carpet of the bowling alley.

A normal life.

Clark hadn't told her about his alter-ego because he wanted a normal life.

Shame washed over her, mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment. How often had she utterly ignored Clark and salivated over Superman? No wonder he hadn't wanted her to know. And yet, that still didn't fully abate all of her anger that he hadn't told her. She'd been made to look like an idiot. True, she had done it to herself, but he could of at least hinted at his double life. Said something. Done something.

"He did," she whispered, her voice lost to the crowd as the next bowler took his turn.

She could remember at least three, if not more, times when Superman had told her something and Clark had repeated it in nearly the same way, and vice versa. Sometimes, it had been spoken almost word for word. And the way both of them had touched her - often little touches, but once in a while, more intimate ones. Like when he'd cupped her cheek with his hand, or the way his lips had caressed hers when he'd kissed her, even when it had been done as a ruse.

Lois sighed. She'd really made a mess of things with Clark, hadn't she?

Soon enough, Superman's - and Lois had to think of him as Superman while she processed everything that she'd figured out - poor bowling skills got him eliminated from the competition. If only he'd listened to her pointers better. She had to almost laugh aloud. Clark hadn't been joking. Bowling really _wasn't_ his sport.

She watched as the lanes were condensed down as more and more bowlers were knocked out of the tournament. She'd hoped Superman - _Clark! _she reminded herself - would circulate about the room for a bit, so that maybe she could pull him off to the side, alone, and tell him that his secret was out. But, to her dismay, he remained close to lane twelve, leaning on the divider wall and continuing to keep up a conversation with Bruce Wayne. And, from the look of things, continuing to help himself to the man's fries. That made her smile, despite her lingering anger over his deception.

Without Superman as a contestant, the rest of the tournament seemed to drag on forever. But, at long last, a winner was announced. Lois didn't care who won. She barely knew who was even left in the competition, let alone paid much attention to the scores. She wanted answers from Clark, and wanted them _now_. But even that was denied to her, as the remaining celebrities were pulled off to the side to sign a number of items for an additional fundraising auction. Clark dutifully signed everything that was pushed at him, while he smiled and kept up a steady conversation with those around him.

Of course, the auction wasn't really a surprise. It had been touted as one of the tournament's highlights - a chance to own an authentic autograph from your favorite star! Lois had earmarked some money for the cause, despite the repair bill she'd recently had for her Jeep - replacing the tires and fixing the worn out brakes. She knew she didn't _have_ to bid on a Superman-signed item. She was sure that if she merely asked him, he sign whatever she wanted. After all, they _were_ pretty good friends. No, she had planned to bid on an item to own something he'd signed _and_ help out his charity in the same stroke. She watched as he put his signature on a plush Superman doll, which, before her revelations that day, Lois might have been interested in bidding on. Now though, she kept her eyes on Clark, watching to ensure that he didn't try to duck out early.

He wasn't leaving the tournament without knowing that she'd figured him out.

At long last, the last piece of frivolous signed pictures had been auctioned off and the lucky winner declared. The celebrities began to leave. And, foremost among them, strode Superman in all of his blue and red clad glory. Even through her hurt that Clark hadn't been completely honest with her, Lois still couldn't deny that there was something magnificent about the way Clark held himself when he was playing the part of the dashing superhero. She hustled to get ahead of the crowd, so that she could be one of the first out the door and waiting for Clark in the parking lot.

She'd be damned if she let him fly off without getting a word in with him.

Several people cursed her as she jostled past. Lois barely heard them. In fact, she shot choice words at only one particularly loud and filthy-mouthed man - and that was only because he'd had the audacity to grab at her arm. Truth be told, Lois was proud of herself for not decking the man in the face. But that would only delay her, as she was sure the security guards and police officers present would have been on her in a second. And that simply would not have flown with her. So she continued to block out the yells of the fans clogging the lobby and managed to squeeze out of the front doors before Clark could reach them.

Most of the media personalities had already moved their operations to the parking lot, ahead of Lois. She wasn't surprised. Had she been attempting to snag an interview with one of the celebrities, she would have done the same thing. She saw that Cat was already there, filing her claws as she waited to pounce on the unsuspecting guests.

"Superman!" she called out as soon as Clark emerged from the building.

Lois saw his eyes immediately swivel to their co-worker. He had a smile on his face, but he also looked kind of tired. Lois imagined that the noise level in the building must have taken its toll on his sensitive hearing. Too bad he was going to get an earful from her as soon as they could be in the privacy of his own apartment.

That stopped her in her tracks. Why had she immediately thought of going to his apartment, not hers? Maybe some part of her felt badly enough that she was willing to allow him to explain himself in the place where he was most comfortable. Perhaps being at his place would allow her to finally, fully, merge the two men in her mind - her best friend and her hero. Or maybe some part of her didn't trust that he would show up to her place, even though she knew that Clark was a man of his word, and if he said he would meet her there, he would.

"Superman!" Cat called again. "Can you comment on your bowling scores today?"

"I'm just glad I was able to participate," he said vaguely. How often had Superman given vague answers like that? And now, Lois knew why. "It was a great event for a great cause. I'm very happy with the amount of money we were all able to raise for all those charities today."

"But what about your scores themselves?" the woman pressed. "It seems like you aren't too familiar with bowling."

"I'm familiar enough with it," he said, shrugging. "I guess it's just not really my game though. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

With that, he swept passed her, taking long strides out into the cracked and uneven parking lot that stretched from the bowling alley to the corner of the street. Lois immediately moved to shadow him, quickening her pace to keep up with his purposeful strides.

"Superman?" Lois called out. "A moment?" She had intended to get a little further from the crowd, but she was afraid he might fly off.

"Hi, Lois," he said, stopping and turning to her.

"Hi, yourself," she said, reaching his side. She gestured away from the crowd. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," Clark said.

Lois started to walk away without another word, with Clark following just a step or two behind. She almost felt bad for him. He had no idea what was coming, that his cover was blown - at least, it was with her. Almost.

"Lois?" he ventured after they'd gone a few feet.

"Just a second," she replied. "I'd rather speak in private."

"Uh, sure," Clark said, and she couldn't miss the hint of confusion in his words.

After another minute, Lois paused. They were at her Jeep, so she crossed her arms and leaned against her rear bumper. For a moment, all she did was look at him, deciding how best to break the news to him.

"Is something the matter?" he asked gently, and she realized, belatedly, how serious she must have looked.

"You tell me, _Clark_. What could _possibly_ be wrong? Other than you lying to me since the moment I met you." He went to speak, but she cut him off. "No, I don't want to hear it right now. I'll meet you back at your apartment and you'd _better_ explain yourself. And Kent, don't you even _dare_ even think about faking an emergency." She did her best to keep her voice low.

Clark paled and his mouth hung slack. Lois saw his eyes dart around, checking the area to see if anyone was in earshot. But, of course, there was no one. Lois had made sure of that as she'd led him to her Jeep. But even after reassuring himself, he looked panicked, though he slowly nodded.

Good, Lois thought. Let him worry for a bit. While she would never use his secret against him, and although she was only slightly still angry with him, he could ponder how she would react when they were alone. After all, turn about was far play.

He turned from her and silently started to rise into the air. Lois sighed. No, she couldn't let him worry too much. Not now. Not when he looked like he thought she might hate him forever.

"Clark," she said softly.

He paused, but didn't look at her.

"If you'd told me before...I could have helped you improve your game more," she teased.

She could almost see the smile on his face as he chuckled and flew off.

The End.


End file.
